Among the poor people belonging to his father's church, no one was more welcome to their humble cottages than little Josey. He always had a pleasant word for each, and often spent hours of his play-time in reading to the old women of the parish.
At Christmas, his greatest treat, and one that he spent weeks in preparing for, was to take his box sled (the one he drew his sister in,) and fill it with the presents he had prepared for his friends.
"Though they are poor," he said, over and over, "I love them dearly, and I want to have them know it." So he spent all his pocket-money in buying what mamma and Aunt Fanny thought would be useful.
A pair of mittens for one poor orphan, a flannel shirt for a rheumatic old man, a pair of glasses for another, and plenty of pies, which he had hired cook to make. He hired her, because he wanted to feel that the gifts were his and not his mother's.
Do you wonder every body, rich and poor, loved him, and that, wherever he went, blessings were showered on his head?
I don't mean those worthless words that so many beggars use without meaning: "A thousand blessings on your head, Miss."
Oh, no! But real, heart-felt prayers that God would be his Father and Friend forever.
Do you suppose Josey was a cross, sulky boy? Can you imagine him wearing a frown? or with his lips in an ugly pout?
No, indeed! It is not possible for one who cultivates such love for all around him; for one who tries in this way to imitate the example of his blessed Saviour to be unhappy or cross. Those children who think only of themselves, who are selfish and greedy, who never heed the blessed words, "Be ye kind one to another," are the persons to wear sour faces and pouting lips.
Don't you remember what the good Book says, "Her ways are ways of pleasantness and all her paths are peace." That means Wisdom's ways, and one of these paths is love; love to God and love to those around us.